


Sanctuary

by mysteriousaliwz (MysteriousAliWays)



Series: Sanctuary [1]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Language, Humour, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-27
Updated: 2010-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-09 18:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteriousAliWays/pseuds/mysteriousaliwz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><br/>Author: <a href="http://mysteriousaliwz.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://mysteriousaliwz.livejournal.com/"><strong>mysteriousaliwz</strong></a><br/>Warnings: Language unsuitable for when you're having the vicar round for tea. Also, complete crack!fic.<br/>Spoilers: 2.07 and 1.06 (the finales of both series, basically)<br/>Author's Notes: Cobbled together for the Inaugural Sunday Comment!Porn post for <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/primeval_denial/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/primeval_denial/"><strong>primeval_denial</strong></a>. Still fairly rough around the edges and completely un-betaed, but Fred told me to do it *g*. Excavated from the depths of the comment!porn post and re-posted as a standalone to give the poor buggers on dial-up a break.<br/>Dedicated to the instigators of <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/primeval_denial/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/primeval_denial/"><strong>primeval_denial</strong></a>. It's a grand job you're doing there, and a very worthy cause.<br/>*is deeply moved*</p>
    </blockquote>





	Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

>   
> Author: [](http://mysteriousaliwz.livejournal.com/profile)[**mysteriousaliwz**](http://mysteriousaliwz.livejournal.com/)  
> Warnings: Language unsuitable for when you're having the vicar round for tea. Also, complete crack!fic.  
> Spoilers: 2.07 and 1.06 (the finales of both series, basically)  
> Author's Notes: Cobbled together for the Inaugural Sunday Comment!Porn post for [](http://community.livejournal.com/primeval_denial/profile)[**primeval_denial**](http://community.livejournal.com/primeval_denial/). Still fairly rough around the edges and completely un-betaed, but Fred told me to do it *g*. Excavated from the depths of the comment!porn post and re-posted as a standalone to give the poor buggers on dial-up a break.  
> Dedicated to the instigators of [](http://community.livejournal.com/primeval_denial/profile)[**primeval_denial**](http://community.livejournal.com/primeval_denial/). It's a grand job you're doing there, and a very worthy cause.  
> *is deeply moved*

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  


The smilodon padded in front of the door, blocking Stephen's view of Nick's appalled gaze. Stephen focused on the ripple of muscle beneath the thick, sandy fur in a vain attempt to distract himself from the scrape of claws on concrete behind him, and the movements above him at the edge of his field of vision. Not that he need concern himself with the future predators - he'd be dead long before they would bother to join in.

The smilodon was turning towards him now, moving into a crouch, preparing to spring. An odd kind of calm descended over Stephen, although he could still feel the thump of his racing heartbeat. There was nothing more he could do. It would soon be over.

He closed his eyes and waited.

The thump knocked all the breath from him, the collision sending him flying through the air, gasping in a desperate bid for oxygen as consciousness left him ...

~~~~~

"I wondered when you'd turn up."

The voice was familiar, although one he had not heard for quite a while. Whuh ..?

Carpet against his cheek, not concrete. Stephen opened his eyes and took stock. No injuries. Still alive, as far as he could tell. No creatures. No predators. No blood. Just what appeared to be a ... bedroom?

And there on the huge king-sized bed was Captain Tom Ryan. Leaning against the headboard, swigging from a beer-can, bare-chested but still wearing his black combats and boots (and obviously not overly concerned with the state of the bedcovers).

Stephen pushed himself clumsily up onto his hands and knees, then sat back on his heels, shaking his head in confusion.

"I thought you were supposed to be dead?"

"I was. But then technically, so were you. Beer?"

Ryan reached over to the mini-fridge by the bedside table, opened the door, fished out a can and tossed it over to Stephen, who had enough of his wits about him to catch it. A drink sounded like a very good idea right about now.

"Where are we?"

Ryan looked thoughtful.

"Exactly where, I'm not sure. All I know is that it's a sort of sanctuary. One minute I was being attacked by the future predator and being slashed to bits, the next I was here, alive and well and not a mark on me. No idea how that happened."

"Weird," commented Stephen. "So, who runs this place?"

"Dunno, I've never actually seen them. I hear them talking though. Apparently I can't go back because of a bunch of, quote: 'stupid fuckwits' they call 'The Writers', but this lot seem to want to look after me. I'm not complaining - this place has got everything I need, great food (they do a mean bacon sandwich), jacuzzi, swimming pool, bar - whatever I ask for, it appears. Lap of luxury, mate. Good to see you though - nice as it is, I could do with some company."

Stephen opened his can and took a gulp, joining Ryan on the bed since there weren't any chairs in the room.

"Have you found out anything about why they're keeping you here?" A thought occurred to Stephen and he glanced around, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Is it safe to talk?"

"We're all right," Ryan assured him. "They've been looking after me for months and they seem like a nice bunch. Pretty much all female, as far as I can tell. I think they're trustworthy. As to why ..." Ryan's voice trailed into silence, and Stephen looked sharply at him. He was astounded to detect what looked remarkably like a blush suffusing the soldier's face. Well, well, there was a turn-up for the books and no mistake.

"What? What is it they want?" demanded Stephen.

"Um ... sex," muttered Ryan.

"They have sex with you??" asked Stephen incredulously.

"No! Apparently that's not the done thing - they mentioned someone called Mary Sue, not sure what she has to do with it, but I'm not pressurised into anything. They just seem to really appreciate seeing me wander around half-dressed, and, uh ..." Ryan cleared his throat, and shifted on the bed, looking faintly embarrassed " ... they love to see me wanking. So I do. It's pretty flattering, the reactions it gets." He grinned.

Stephen looked at Ryan with interest. He wouldn't have pegged him for some sort of exhibitionist, although he could see why their voyeuristic rescuers had shown such an interest in Ryan. He'd never seen the soldier bare-chested before, and hadn't realised what an impressive musculature he possessed. Ryan wanking would be quite a sight. No wonder the facilities were so impressive - the management obviously thought he was worth it.

Stephen's thoughts returned to his own situation. "So what do they want with me?"

"Well, mostly they were just really indignant that you got killed off and wanted to rescue you. Of course, one factor might be the fact that they think you're kind of pretty."

Ryan smirked, and Stephen could feel a flush of heat wash over his throat and face. Apparently now it was his turn to blush.

"So, do they want me to ... uh ...?"

Ryan leaned over and whispered in Stephen's ear.

"They what???" Stephen exclaimed.

"I think they would rather like us to shag." Ryan gave him a heavy-lidded, speculative look. "And to be honest, I'm not that averse to the idea myself, if you're willing. Might be fun. And it beats the alternative. Although I still haven't worked out what they want us to do with the cable ties and socks, but no doubt it will come to us."

"Hmmm," pondered Stephen. "Death and oblivion, or shagging like bunnies for the benefit of a load of appreciative voyeurs. That's a tough one."

Ryan chuckled. "So, that leaves the question ..." He produced a small bottle of gun oil from beneath the pillow, and dangled it between his thumb and forefinger.

"... who gets to go first?"  


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**Fic: Sanctuary**   
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